


Breathe Underwater

by psychopassblue



Category: CrankGameplays - Fandom, Video Blogging RPF, markiplier - Fandom, youtube - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Victorian, Ambiguous Relationships, Dubious Consent, Dysfunctional Family, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, M/M, Multi, My First Fanfic, Past Character Death, Past Child Abuse, Past Relationship(s), Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-06
Updated: 2017-04-04
Packaged: 2018-09-22 12:03:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9606812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psychopassblue/pseuds/psychopassblue
Summary: An icy chill hung in the air as Mark stood before the door to his twin brother’s home.The door in front of him looked every bit as unpleasant as the man to whom it belonged. Over time the black paint had worn away, due to repeated exposure to the elements, the wood of the door itself had begun to splinter at the edges where it met the doorframe, and when combined with the rather unpleasant rest of the house, it could not have looked less like a place one would wish to spend time. But to Mark, the house’s intimidating exterior matched his brother perfectly.





	1. Tear us in two is all it seems to do, as the anger fades this house is no longer a home.

**Author's Note:**

> okay, I'm gonna start by saying that I've wanted to write this particular story for a very long time, so I'm glad that I finally got around to it.  
> Technically, this is not my first fanfiction, but it is the first work I have written for this fandom and the first fanfic that I have written in about a year, so please forgive me if there are any mistakes >.<
> 
> Also, just a quick note: Darren is essentially my version of Darkiplier. I would have just called him Dark, but I felt like he needed to have a proper name for this story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title lyric: Because I Want You by Placebo

An icy chill hung in the air as Mark stood before the door to his twin brother’s home.

The door in front of him looked every bit as unpleasant as the man to whom it belonged. Over time the black paint had worn away, due to repeated exposure to the elements, the wood of the door itself had begun to splinter at the edges where it met the doorframe, and when combined with the rather unpleasant rest of the house, it could not have looked _less_ like a place one would wish to spend time. But to Mark, the house’s intimidating exterior matched his brother perfectly.

He stood by the door for a little while longer. His decision to linger in the cold of the outdoors, rather than hurry into the home of someone who _should_ be his closest family member, should be enough of an indication that he was not here by choice. In fact, the look of the house itself was enough to make him want to run and hide, never mind the person who lived within its walls.

He did not hate his brother. Mark did not think himself capable of hating _anyone,_ let alone a part of his own family. However, his brother, Darren, had made his distaste for their family very clear when he moved out all those years ago. And if Mark was being honest, he didn’t exactly blame Darren for those feelings.

During their childhood Darren had never been accepted by their family in quite the same way that Mark had. Their parents had always insisted that they loved them both equally, but it was clear to both of them, even as children, that that was not true.

Darren had moved out just after he and Mark turned eighteen. He claimed that he no longer wished to share a home with people who had merely ‘put up with him’ his whole life. Needless to say, their mother was distraught when she heard this, but attempting to explain away the eighteen years of favourable treatment given to his brother was something that even she could not do.

Mark lost count of the letters that went without replies. He lost count of the amount of times his mother cried over the loss of her son. It was clear that she blamed herself, but that was okay; because the rest of them blamed her too. You see, their father was an old fashioned man, and like most old fashioned men, one of his most sacred beliefs was that children should be raised by their mothers, while the father kept the family afloat.

And so, in keeping with that belief, he had been absent for most of the boys’ childhoods due to work; and even when he was around, he took very little part in raising them. Their father had been involved in so _little_ of Mark and Darren’s lives that I dare say that when he passed their lives were hardly any different to when he had been alive.

Their father had been distant to the point of borderline neglect and, as much as it would pain Mark to say it out loud, their mother had not been much better. She was not the _worst_ parent, although she was arguably the main factor in Darren’s reclusive, and often at times quite explosive, behaviour. But one must judge the situation fairly; in her defence, there had always been something a little… _off_ about Darren.

This… _off_ quality had been a prominent part of his character since he was very young, with some rather careless relatives even going so far as to say that Darren was like Mark’s evil twin. Their mother had always been adamant that it was some kind of character flaw that needed to be beaten out of him. Now, she never did lay a hand on either of her sons, but what she _did_ do was debatably much worse. Not that she would realise this until it was much too late to apologise. Unlike their father, her death caused much more of a rift in the remnants of the family.

_“I don’t give a fuck if it’s what she wanted.”_

_“Darren, please just calm down, you’re being irrational-”_

_“I am calm, she’s the one who’s being irrational.”_

_“Mother just wanted me to visit you every so often, nothing major.”_

The sky had gotten darker, and Mark began to feel the temperature drop as he continued to stand in the uninviting doorway. A subtle smile spread across his lips as he cast one final thought to his late parents.

Mark reached forwards and turned the doorknob in front of him. He pushed lightly, the door emitting a high pitched creak as it swung open to reveal a draughty hallway leading inside. Mark sighed and cast one last glance at the outside world before picking up his two suitcases and heading inside.

He stopped for a moment to close the door behind him, but this did little to improve the temperature of the entrance hall. His eyebrows drew together in mild frustration, as he pulled his trench coat tighter around himself in a vain attempt to warm up. He continued down the hallway until he reached another door, which he just pushed with his elbow to open.

The hallway now opened up into a larger front room, with a staircase directly across from where Mark was standing. There was no one around. He walked towards the staircase with his suitcases in hand, and set them down with a gentle thud on the bottom step, intending to take them upstairs at a later time.

That was when he heard it. The familiar sound of a pen scratching on paper, coming from somewhere down a second hallway that split off from the left side of the front room. Abandoning his suitcases at the bottom of the stairs, he followed the all too familiar sound, down an all too familiar corridor, finally coming to a stop in front of an all too familiar office door.

Mark extended his arm towards the door handle, stopping once his hand grasped the cold metal. He took a deep breath and put on the most casual smile he could manage given the circumstances of his visit, before moving to open the door, revealing the office space inside.

The pen scratching on paper did not cease, even with the slight squeak of the door’s hinges signalling someone’s arrival. Mark took a moment to let his eyes wander around the room. The office was modest to say the least, with only a bookshelf and two filing cabinets lining the walls.

In the centre of the room sat a desk. And behind that desk sat Darren, his eyes still glued to the page in front of him.

“Um, hello?” Mark finally said, hoping it would elicit some kind of response from Darren and ease the slight tension that had built up in the room. The scratching of the pen did not stop, nor did Darren look up from his desk.

“Oh, Mark, I, uh, I didn’t think you were coming.” Darren looked up from his paper, but his eyes fell back almost immediately, “I would’ve greeted you at the door...”

“Oh really,” Mark said, more of a statement than a question. “Maybe I would believe that if you had _ever_ greeted me _properly_ before.” Mark relaxed a little, leaning on the door frame with his hands buried deep into his coat pockets. Once again the scratching of the pen stopped, as Darren began to formulate his reply.

“That’s fair,” said Darren, clicking the lid onto his pen and leaning back in his chair. “I mean; I _would_ have prepared some kind of welcome were the prospect of doing _literally anything else_ not more appealing.” The childishness of his twin’s insult made Mark chuckle, and for a moment the interaction, the two of them being together, the not-so-playful banter, just _everything_ felt normal.

“So,” Mark said, catching his twin’s attention. “Are you going to show your big brother to his room?” He taunted, his face breaking into a grin when he caught the sight of the way his brother’s eyebrow quirked in mild annoyance. Even so, Darren heaved himself out of his chair, stretching his stiff joints back to some semblance of working order, before approaching the door where Mark stood.

“We’re the same age, so wipe that fucking grin off your face,” Darren said, clearly attempting to be intimidating, but failing due to the slight grin that had begun to surface on his own face. In a way, he did still care for Mark. “Come on, I’ll show you to your room, _your highness._ ” He teased as he walked past his twin, and out into the hallway. They advanced down the corridor, towards the front room; the pair slipped into a comfortable silence.

“I see you still haven’t hired any staff,” Mark mused, more of an observation than a critique, even though Darren seemed to take slight offense to it.

“Why, no, _dear brother_ , I haven’t,” His words were tinged with an edge of sarcasm. “You see; I have mastered this _wonderful_ thing known as _being able to take care of myself_.” They arrived at the bottom of the stairs where Darren began an immediate climb, in a childish response to Mark’s earlier comment, but his somewhat harsh, insult with regards to his brother did not go unnoticed.

“Well, I mean, I _do_ have a pregnant wife and child who need attending to while I work,” Darren stopped his ascent; allowing his twin to catch up to him. Mark heaved up the stairs to where he was standing, suitcases in hand. “But, then again, it _is_ just you here… so I guess you wouldn’t really need any help.”

“I, uh, I didn’t know Amy was expecting again.” There was a slight undertone of hurt that laced his voice. By this time Mark had caught up to Darren, and he had begun advancing past him towards to upper floor. Soon after, he reached the landing, set down his cases and waited for his twin to snap out of his trance.

“If I’m honest, I didn’t think you’d care, considering that you’ve never once expressed interest in having anything to do with _my_ family.” Mark could not help the wave of ill feelings that washed over him in that moment. “We gave you plenty of opportunities, but you’ve made it abundantly clear that you have no wish to be associated with us.” The remark was callous; a rare occurrence of Mark displaying unnecessary cruelty. But, in this instance, he thought himself justified. His brother, however, saw it differently.

“I wouldn’t exactly say that you _gave me plenty of opportunities,_ ” Darren began to continue his way up the flight of stairs, and towards where his brother was waiting for him. The twinge of sadness in his word was now long gone. “I think you _like_ keeping me separate from your _perfect_ family.”

“You can’t say that, Darren,” Mark said, an edge of anger becoming more prominent in his words. “I’ve contacted you _many times_ with regards to _all of us_ spending more time together, but _you_ have always been the one refusing.”

“Well, with the kind of person _you_ are,” He glared at his reflection from where he stood. “I would have _assumed_ that you’d bring them anyway.”

“I wouldn’t want to _inconvenience_ you with _two extra people._ ” He ground out.

“ _You alone fucking inconvenience me, and I’ve told you that many times before; yet that’s never fucking stopped you, has it? So why would your family be any different?_ ”

Mark squeezed his eyes shut; it was a tactic he had resorted to many times as a young boy when people began shouting.

“Unless, of course, you just don’t want me around them,” Darren paused his rant for a moment; his breath short. Mark shut his eyes _tighter._ “Because you’re scared of what I might do or how I might react; _is that it, Mark? Is that why I’ve never seen Amy since the wedding? Why I’ve only ever seen your son in photographs?_ ”

 _“Shut up, Darren,”_ Mark could not pinpoint the moment when he began shouting himself. “ _Just fucking shut up_.”

For a few minutes the pair just stood on the landing staring at each other. Mark continued his endeavour to calm his erratic breathing; Darren closed his eyes, in a way mimicking the behaviour that his brother had displayed earlier. Mark picked up his suitcases and pushed past his twin, walking towards the room he always stayed in during one of their visits. However, as he set his cases down by the guest bedroom door, Darren ran up behind him and grabbed his shoulder.

“You, uh, won’t be staying here this time,” Darren looked away from his twin; a subtle gesture, but it did not go unnoticed. He pointed down an adjoining hallway with a single door at the end. “You’ll be sleeping in _that_ room down there, while this one is, um, _in use_.”

“Oh? And just what are you using it for?”

“Nothing you would want to know about; trust me.”

The seemingly sudden change in rooms, compared to all other times Mark had stayed with his brother, aroused his curiosity; but considering that he had barely been in Darren’s home for half an hour and they had already had a fight, he was not about to make more of a nuisance of himself. Instead he gave his twin a curt nod, and began walking towards his new destination.

Darren returned to his office once he had seen his brother down the corridor; Mark cast one last glance at the old guest room door. He let his mind run around possible reasons as to why he had been moved, but in the end decided that doing so was pointless.

If Darren _truly_ wanted something kept secret, that something would never see the light of day again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are appreciated, as well as any questions or constructive criticism ^.^
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	2. The room was fit for two, the bed was left in ruins. The nieghbour was knocking, but no one would let him in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I was super pleasantly surprised by the reaction to the first chapter, like honestly I didn't think that it would get this much of a response so quickly, so thank you so much for that! It really motivates me to see people enjoying my writing ^.^
> 
> But here I am back at it again with another chapter, woo *confetti explosion* I hope everyone enjoys it, and that you're enjoying this AU, even if it's a little slow to begin with >
> 
> also I'm having some issues with notes, so form now on the title lyrics will be at the top instead of the bottom 
> 
> Title lyric: A Little Death by The Neighbourhood

Mark closed the door behind him and slipped off his trench coat. This was followed by his suit jacket, which left him in his white button up shirt and waistcoat. He picked up his suitcases and crossed the room to the bed in the far corner. He slid his glasses from his face and set them down on the bedside table. He laid the cases down onto the single bed, the other room had had a double, so he couldn’t help but feel slight irritation. Nevertheless, he decided that now was as a good a time to unpack as any. It at least gave him something to do during the period of obligatory avoidance that set in after every fight. But before long, the small wardrobe that was situated against the opposing wall contained the entire portion of belongings that Mark had brought with him. With a sigh, he sat down on the edge of the bed, casting his mind over possible ways to kill time until dinner, where he and Darren would be forced into one another’s company again.

In the room’s eerie silence, he heard the creaking of floorboards; he concentrated on the sound. Door hinges squeaked, and he could hear muffled speech from down the hall. Mark hoisted himself up from the bed and shuffled towards the door. He pressed his ear against the thin wooden slab, soaking in what little of the sound he could hear. He cracked the door open slightly.

“Look I just… Don’t say… Behave yourself then… I’ll be back soon.” It was Darren, and he was… talking to someone, but he and Mark were the only people in the house. Weren’t they? Without a moment of hesitation, Mark pushed the door fully open. Darren was standing at the end of the hallway, with his hand on the doorknob of the other guest room, clearly startled by his brother’s sudden appearance.

“Who were you talking to?”

“Huh?”

“Just then; _who were you talking to?_ ” Mark’s gaze hardened; Darren removed his hand from the doorknob and turned the key in the lock. “Darren, _answer me._ ” His twin began walking towards the staircase as if he hadn’t heard Mark’s demand; finally coming to a stop at the edge of the landing.

“You _really_ shouldn’t ask so many questions,” The smirk was evident in Darren’s voice. “There are some things in this house that you’re better off not knowing about.” With that, he continued his path down the stairs, leaving Mark alone on the landing.

He walked towards the door of the old guest room, pressing his ear against the wood upon arrival. There was almost no sound coming from the other side, other than light shuffling it was silent. Mark closed his eyes, concentrating on any sound that he could have missed; still nothing new. Curious, and now mildly frustrated, Mark kneeled in front of the door, and lined up his eye with the keyhole.

The image seen from the keyhole was unclear and distorted; only one thing was discernible. Movement. He could see that whatever was in the room was moving; therefore, it was _alive._ Mark still had no idea what was is the room, or why Darren was keeping it there, so it did little to quench his curiosity, if anything it worsened. With his head now all but bursting with conflicting thoughts, Mark got up from his crouched position and made his way back to his room; he sat perched on the edge of the bed, his mind racing.

 _There is something in there. It was moving. Darren was talking to it._ The more Mark thought about it, the less sense everything made. His brother was keeping _something_ in that locked room, something he didn’t want Mark to know about; but what could that be? He had _definitely_ heard shuffling, and seen it moving. Whatever it was was _alive._ It could have been some sort of animal; but why would Darren be so secretive about having a _pet_? Besides, the way his brother had spoken to it was not at all like how one would speak to an animal; it sounded more like a conversation. Like whatever it was had been… _replying_ to him.

Mark felt his eyebrows draw together as a thought slipped into his mind. _What if it’s a person in there?_ As much as this was an unsettling conspiracy to be harbouring against one’s own brother, he could not help but want to mull over the thought for a while longer. He laid back onto soft, cotton sheets, shut his eyes and began thinking.

The possibility of Darren having a person locked in one of his spare rooms did explain a few things; such as his discomfort when the room’s contents were brought up, or his unwillingness to answer any questions. Then there was just the question of why he would keep someone in there. Mark opened his eyes and stared at the cracked plaster on the ceiling. He could not answer that. No matter how twisted and detached Darren could be, he still did not think his brother capable of imprisoning another human. He sighed, tossing his forearm to lay across his once again closed eyes; there was no point in dwelling on ridiculous thoughts. Mark turned onto his side, a wave of fatigue washing over him. _I guess an hour couldn’t hurt;_ his internal monologue trailed off into white noise as he felt himself drift off.

The sleep, although needed, is anything but pleasant. His dreams seem to be no more than crackling grey static, and his mind is still plagued by unnerving thoughts of that locked room. The unfamiliar bed beneath his caused his frame to toss and turn the entire time, and unfamiliar bedsheets felt rough against his skin. Scenarios played and replayed in his head; interactions with Darren, begging and forcing different answers about that room, each reply becoming more and more outlandish. Eventually the visions faded out once again and his eyes blinked open, everything in the room refocusing.

With no window, it was hard to tell just how much time had passed; but regardless of that fact, Mark figured it was time to make peace with his brother. He rolled over onto his back, further blinking the bleariness out of his eyes; the image of the cracked plaster on the ceiling filling his vision. Mark heaved himself back into a sitting position, rubbing his eyes for a minute. His stomach growled; _well, even if Darren doesn’t want to see me… I should probably still get something to eat._ With that thought, he got up from his bed and made for the door.

The creaking of the hinges barely registered in his ears as he made his way towards the stairs. He passed the old guest room door, giving it a sideways glance; he had wasted too many thoughts of that already, now he had more important things to worry about. As he drew towards the top of the stairs, the scratching of the pen came back into earshot. _He’s still working;_ Mark’s face broke into a slight smile, _typical Darren._

He padded down the stairs and headed towards the adjoining corridor; passing doors until he came upon the one he needed. Darren’s office. Mark did not bother to knock and just pushed the door open, revealing his brother sitting at his desk scribbling over contracts.

“Darren,” No reply, “Darren?”

Mark’s twin cast him a glance, but still said nothing.

“ _Darren,_ ” He said with a little more force. “This is childish. Please just talk to me.”

“I’m working.” He said, simply, still refusing to look up from whatever paperwork that he was working on.

“I see that,” Mark deadpanned. “I was just wondering if you wanted dinner. I’m happy to cook.” He tried to keep his tone light, still wishing to make peace with his brother. Darren paused in his scribbling for a moment, considering the idea; but he resumed soon after.

“I’m fine.” He stated. “But you’re free to help yourself.” Mark let out a frustrated sigh.

“Look, Darren, I’m trying to make amends, alright?” He was running out of patience. Darren pulled away from his work with renewed interest. “I’ll admit, I acted like a dick earlier-” Darren gave a mock gasp.

“ _You?_ Sweet angel, Mark Fischbach, _a dick? Never._ ” He mocked; Mark’s eyebrow twitched.

“ _I’m trying really hard to make peace here, Darren,_ ” He seethed. “ _So maybe you should shut the fuck up before I hit you; because believe me, it’s really fucking tempting right now._ ” Darren leaned back in his chair, with a smug grin on his face.

“Someone’s feisty tonight,” He smirked. He leaned his elbow on the desk in front of him, and rested his chin in his palm. “As much as I _love_ it when you show what kind of cold bastard you really are, aggression really isn’t a pretty look on you, brother; maybe you should work on your anger.” In that moment, his entire character _oozed_ condescension.

“Fuck, I was an idiot for even _trying_ to talk to you.” Mark muttered as he turned and left the office once more. The door swung shut behind him, and the scratching of the pen started up again in no time. _Why do I even bother?_ He walked back towards the front room, intending on visiting the kitchen and preparing something quick for an evening meal.

He turned and headed for the door on the wall behind the staircase, which lead to a rather modest kitchen. Mark made his way around the small room, checking all the cupboards for anything he could throw together. To his dismay, the only things to be found were a few cans of ground coffee, some _very_ obviously expired items, and two or three loafs of white bread which all appeared to be missing crusts in various areas. Mark sighed, deciding that he would go grocery shopping the following day. In the absence of anything else, he brewed a strong cup of coffee, heading upstairs with that and a few slices of dry bread.

He walked back along the corridor to his room, opening the door with his right hand while balancing the plate of bread on his left forearm. The door swung open and he immediately set the plate down on his bedside table, shutting the door afterwards. Mark perched himself on the edge of his bed, and began to eat his makeshift supper. His plate and mug soon emptied. Mark set about to hopefully sleep soon; he had spent most of the day traveling, and on top of that Darren had been particularly exhausting. It had been a day that Mark would be happy to forget about.

He stood up and unbuttoned his waistcoat, sliding it off his shoulders and letting it fall to the floor. He would deal with it in the morning; right now, he just wanted to sleep. However, fait had other plans for him tonight. Mark undid the top three buttons of his shirt; just as he was going to pull it off over his head when he heard it. A kind of muffled sound, like the one he had heard earlier that day. Initially he ignored it, whatever it was did not concern him anyway. Without any further thought, he pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it over with his waistcoat. As he pulled a fresh night shirt from his closet, the noise changed; _that_ caught his attention. It sounded sloppy, and it only got louder; it caught his curiosity again. Mark tugged the new shirt over his head and turned towards the door.

He pushed the door forwards slowly, conscious of every sound it made; fortunately, it seemed that the creaking was drowned out by the noises from the other room. He stepped out into the hallway, moving along the wall to avoid the creaky floorboards; the noises only amplified, loud and becoming clearer. Mark froze; the sound was clear now. Light, breathy gasps mixed with squeaking bedsprings trailed from behind the door. _Fuck, I’m an idiot._ Mark cringed at the utter awkwardness of the situation he had walked in on. _No wonder he was so private about it, I’m so stupid._ His legs trembled; he needed to get out of there quickly. He turned to slip away, but what he then heard kept him there.

“Aah… oh God- _aah…_ oh _please-_ please _more..._ ”

Mark’s eyes widened. _That_ was not Darren; he could not put a face to that voice, but it was _not_ his brother. It had sounded… _distinctly female_. He wracked his brain for an explanation, but only one thought surfaced _there’s someone else in there. There must be, that proves it._ The ‘distracting’ noises continued flowing from the room in front of him; now he _really_ needed to leave. He caught his breathe in his throat, more conscious than ever of making sound. Mark walked back along the wall towards his room, shutting the door behind him. His back pressed against the cold, wooden door as he caught his breath; he slid down to the floor, catching his head in his hands. There was only one thing left to do: Mark needed to get into that room. He had heard the woman Darren was keeping in there, now he needed to see her. Confirm that he was not completely crazy.

 _Okay… Darren keeps that room locked, so he must have the key on him somewhere; most likely a jacket pocket._ Mark sat formulating a somewhat half-baked plan. _All I’ve got to do is sneak into his room once he goes to bed, find the key then I can get in,_ he sighed. _Fuck, I really am crazy._ Mark was pulled out of his thoughts by the escalating sounds from outside; he pressed his ear to the door to confirm, and sure enough, the noises were getting a little louder and wilder. He knew what that meant; neither Darren or his… companion would be ‘at it’ for much longer. Once again, Mark cringed at his current situation; this kind of behaviour was by no means normal, but he was too far gone to ignore it now. At least all he had to so now was wait for the right time.

Mark lost track of how long he sat there, ear glued to the door, monitoring the situation outside a best he could. Soon enough he heard the squeaking and moaning fade out. _Good, they’re done,_ He thought; now he just had to wait another hour or so, just to be sure that Darren would be asleep. Sighing, he tilted his head up, fixing his gaze onto the cracked plaster of the ceiling. _It’s gonna be a long night._

There was no point in sitting by the door anymore, so he heaved himself up and towards the bed, planting himself down on the mattress. He rubbed the tiredness from his eyes; he could not sleep now, not when he was this close. He needed to do _something_ though, or he feared he really would pass out.

Hoisting himself up from the bed, he walked slowly around his small room, searching for something to occupy his time. By the time two hours had passed, he had arranged and rearranged the wardrobe, dragged the bedframe away from the wall, pushed it back against a different wall, put it back, taken off all the bedclothes and put them all back on again. He had also attempted to compose a short letter to Amy and Timothy, but nothing had sounded right. He did not want to include the fight he and Darren had had, to not worry his family, and he couldn’t very well include the predicament he found himself in now; and so, a steadily growing pile of rejected letters was to be found beside the bed.  At this point, he was sure that it was _way_ past midnight; Darren had to be asleep by now. _Enough fucking around, I’ve got to do this now._

Mark pushed himself up from the bed and headed to the door. He cracked the it open, sliding out against the wall, and walking down the corridor towards an opposing hallway. Once he had reached the stairs, he became hyperaware of every noise he made; Mark could not afford to be caught. Not only was this behaviour extremely abnormal, he was too tired to come up with an excuse as to why he was skulking around so late at night. Much too soon for his liking, he came face to face with Darren’s door.

 Mark reached out for the handle, wincing when the door emitted a low creak; he continued pushing it open until he could squeeze his frame through the opening. There was no reaction to the door opening, meaning that Darren _was_ sleeping. Once inside the room he was greeted with the second half of the challenge: find the key, and do so quietly. He quickly scanned the room, his eyes landing of the clothes Darren had been wearing that day, which had been slung unceremoniously over a chair in the corner of the room. He made a beeline for the chair, stepping quick and light to avoid any creaking floorboards. Mark shoved his hands deep into the pockets of every garment on the chair, until his fingers met something cold and metal; pulling the small object out, he found what he was looking for.

Clutching the key in his fist, he stepped lightly back towards the door. He cracked the door open again, but before he left, he cast an apologetic glance towards his brother’s sleeping form. Feeling himself become distracted, he shook his head and headed back along the corridor; soon coming upon the guest bedroom door. Mark took a deep breath, and fitted the key into the lock. He turned it clockwise, only stopping once he felt the latch click open. He took a moment to prepare himself; he knew well enough that he could very easily find a distressed woman in chains, or a girl bloody and beaten. He prepared himself for blood or gore, not for what was waiting on the other side.

Mark drew in one final deep breath, pushing the door open with a soft squeak. His eyes widened as he came face to face with the room’s current occupant.

A young boy with messy brown hair and light eyes sat before him. The boy’s face was covered in acne scars, and his shirt was open to reveal harsh scratches and purpling bruises blossoming across his collar bones. His face was gaunt and his ribs were visible through the wrecked skin on his abdomen.

 _Oh, my God, Darren…_ Mark thought. _What have you done now?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are appreciated, as well as any questions and constructive criticism ^.^


	3. In the arms of another who doesn't mean anything to you. There's nothing much to discover.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I'm actually amazed at the response this has received! Over 150 hits???? I can't??? I was honestly not expecting people to take to this story since it is so different to what usually gets posted, so I'm so thankful for all the attention this has received ^.^
> 
> I'd also like to take this opportunity to apologize for taking so long to update. To tell you the truth I haven't been super motivated to write recently, and I've been much more into drawing and I have created a couple of sketches for this story! So that's cool! They're on my Tumblr *shameless self promotion* which is im-an-art-panda if you'd like to see the drawings. It'd also be cool to have people follow my Tumblr, just so I could post mini updates and other things regarding the story so anyone who's interested could be more informed about chapter updates and update schedules etc. just because I'm the most active on there so it would probably be the easiest way for you to stay in the loop!
> 
> Jesus, that sounded really overconfident and narcissistic (just spent a good while trying to figure out how to spell that, well done me) so I'm sorry about that >.< I just wanted to get that out there as the best means of contact for questions about the story or updates or art or anything! So I'm glad I got that out!
> 
> Title lyric: Exit Wounds by Placebo

For a moment, all Mark did was stare. The boy’s face seemed to fall at the sight of him; he stood from the bed and shook the open shirt from his shoulders, abandoning it in a crushed pile on the floor. The older of the two seemed to experience a mild confusion, but that did not last long. Any misunderstanding of the boy’s previous actions was cleared up immediately as his hands began sliding his briefs down his thighs. Mark threw his hands up to stop him.

“ _N-no stop,_ ” The boy looked up with a hint of confusion in his eyes. “I’m not Darren.” Mark blurted. _Fucking perfect time to forget that you look so alike._ The younger’s face did not seem to change, he simply pulled his briefs back up to his hipbones and reached for his shirt.

“I’m sorry, sir.” His voice was surprisingly calm. Mark paused; the boy’s calm tone startling him somewhat.

“You don’t have to call me sir,” The boy looked up at his words, “My name is Mark; I’m Darren’s brother.” Mark inwardly cringed at how fake the story sounded out loud. The younger’s lips tugged into a slight smirk, and his eyebrow quirked, displaying an expression of playful scepticism.

“Never thought you’d be twins,” The younger mused; Mark faltered.

“Excuse me?” The boy looked back up at him, clearly confused by his question. “What do you mean ‘never thought you’d be twins’? Are you talking about me and Darren?” The boy just nodded in response.

“He’s talked about you before, so I knew he had a brother.” He settled himself back onto the edge of the bed. “I just never thought you’d be twins.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” A hint of melancholy tinged his words. “A lot of people are shocked when they first see us together.” The atmosphere dampened; an uncomfortable sense of unspoken ill feeling permeated the air between the two. The younger seemed aware of this, taking it upon himself to ease the tension.

“Well _Mark_ ,” He shifted up towards the headboard; reclining against the pillows that lay there. “If you’re not here for sex; just what _are_ you doing here?” The subtle smirk still adorned his face, intensifying when he saw Mark’s eyes dart away from him in mortification.

“W-well, um… I, uh…” Mark’s response trailed off, his stance seemed to wilt a little under that gaze from the bed. The boy chuckled at the other’s awkwardness.

“It’s okay, calm down. I won’t judge you; just tell me.” A hint of a smile could be seen on his face. The boy sat up from his position by the pillows to pat the end of the bed. “Sit down, you intrigue me.” Mark raised an eyebrow at the invitation, accepting it nonetheless; he cautiously set himself down on the very bottom corner of the mattress.

“I intrigue you?” He could not suppress the nervous laugh that escaped him. “Um, t-thanks I guess?” Mark felt his eyes dart from wall to wall, cautious not to let his gaze fall upon the boy in front of him; the younger once again smirked, aware of the game Mark was playing.

“Come on, mister, _look at me,_ ” The kid purred from the head of the bed. “I’m not _that_ scary, am I?” He placed a hand onto his mid-thigh, and began softly trailing his fingertips up towards his prominent hipbones. Mark caught himself following the path up the boy’s thigh; he tore his gaze from the display.

“N-no, it’s not that,” He said, mentally kicking himself every time his voice stammered. “I guess I’m just a little… surprised.”

“Oh really?” He shifted his position down the bed, edging closer to where Mark was sitting. “Why were you surprised?” The younger boy smirked, seeming as though he already knew the answer to that question.

“Well, uh… if I’m honest I was not expecting you to be a boy.” The younger tilted his head in slight confusion, with a face of clearly forged incorruptibility.

“Oh?” The boy placed his index finger in the centre of his lower lip, tilting his eyebrow up a little. A picture of false innocence. “Why not?” _Damn_ Mark’s mind kept racing. _This kid is really something else._ Mark broke eye contact and awkwardly cleared his throat; this was _way_ more than he could handle.

“W-well I, um… you see, I…” He heard the boy giggle from beside him; he looked back round to find that smirk back in its rightful place. Mark felt a hand land on his knee, the cold of the skin piercing through the fabric that covered his legs. The hand moved; the boy’s cold palm grazing up his thigh in what he could only assume to be an attempt at comfort.

“It’s okay; take your time.” The calm tone of his voice never ceased to be alarming. The smirk had finally dropped from the younger’s face, and in its place a somewhat low-spirited smile. It appeared almost alien; unfamiliar, yet it looked as though it belonged. Mark felt himself briefly study the other’s lips; taking particular interest in a vertical scar running over the left side of his mouth. He tore his gaze away, focusing his attention back onto the carpet. “Whatever’s the matter, mister? Why won’t you look at me?”

“It’s nothing, I just… I should probably go,” Mark murmured, yet made no move to stand. The hand remained on his lap, and within a few seconds, he felt warm breath on his ear.

“Why so eager to leave? Isn’t this fun?” Mark felt the hand on his lap trail higher, and squeeze his upper thigh. “Cos if you’re not _having fun_ … I can _fix that_.” The boy purred, punctuating his earlier remark by dragging his hand _higher_ and allowing his fingertips to graze the skin just beneath the hem of Mark’s shirt. Mark exhaled a shaky breath.

“Please don’t do that.” He muttered, barely audible even with their proximity; and so, the boy continued. He grazed the other’s skin with his nails, and dragged his tongue down the shell of Mark’s ear. “ _I said, please don’t do that._ ” The boy paused in his ministrations, but did not remove his hands completely.

“You seem tense, let me-”

“Please, take your hands _off_ me.” Mark would admit that he had spoken somewhat harshly; but in the moment the only thing on his mind was _getting the fuck out of there._

“O-okay.” The boy’s calm tone wavered, an ugly emotion peeking through. Another crack forming in his façade; it suited him. He was half tempted to turn and see the face the boy was wearing; he resisted the urge. Mark felt the mattress shift beside him, and took that as his cue to leave. He heaved himself up from the bed, making his way back to the door. He cast one last glance around the room, letting his eyes rest on the boy’s form for a little longer than could be justified. He left the room without a word, turning the key in the lock before walking back to his room.

Mark entered the smaller guest room, tossing the key on the bed. He sat down on the edge of the mattress, finally giving in to the thoughts swirling in his brain. He had hoped to have his questions answered and laid to rest by now, but honestly, he only felt _more_ confused by the whole encounter. He knew what was _in_ the room at least; that was one question answered, now he only had a _million_ more to go.

He sighed, concluding that he would not receive any other answers tonight. _Sleep now_ he told himself. _Talk to Darren tomorrow_. He dropped himself onto the mattress, laying on his back staring up at the cracked plaster; he had begun to make a habit of that.

 

The early morning was indistinguishable in the room’s constant dullness. Nonetheless, the figure that lay beneath fine blankets began to stir. Mark hauled himself from the gentle embrace of the bedsheets, and picked up his glasses. Sliding the wire frames onto his face brought his attention to the key that lay on his bedside table. _Fuck_ he thought. _I’ve still got to give that back to him._

Heaving himself out of bed, he made for the wardrobe. Pulling his shirt off over his head and replacing it with a fresh one; _I’ll put on clean pants if I have to go anywhere_ he though bitterly, reaching for the door handle. He wasted no time wandering the corridor; this time he had a purpose.

When he passed by the door of the boy’s room the fire within him only strengthened. He had _tried_ not to assume too much, but the situation did seem quite clear; he just needed a few things confirmed. As he reached the halfway point of the stairs, he began hearing the familiar sound of a pen scratching; Darren was awake. That fact only made him stride faster; he wanted answers, he _needed_ answers. He barely registered his own arrival in the front room, as he was down the side corridor so quickly. He reached the office door, and wasted no time slamming it open.

“Darren, _what the fuck?_ ” As usual, Darren did not look up.

“I’m afraid I’m gonna need some context.” Finally came his clipped, sarcastic reply.

“ _That boy_ ,” Mark ground out. “ _The one you’re keeping in the guestroom upstairs._ ” That got his brother’s attention. Darren laid his pen down and rested his chin in his palm; a knowing smirk emerging on his lips.

“It was _you_ who took my key?” He narrowed his eyes to glare at his twin. “Well, that wasn’t very nice, was it?”

“Oh no, don’t you fucking _dare_ call moral high ground on me.” He seethed.

“ _Fine_ , I won’t.” Darren’s focus immediately dropped back to his work; the scratching of a pen became the only sound audible. Mark was furious.

“Don’t _ignore_ me.”

“ _Well what else do you want me to say?_ ”

“ _A fucking explanation might be nice._ ” With that, Darren tossed his pen down and threw his hands up.

“ _Fine, what do you want to know?_ ”

For a moment, silence rang out between the two; a silence broken only by the pair’s erratic breathing. Mark was the first to speak.

“Who is he?” Darren sighed, but was quick to follow in his brother’s renewed composure. He reached for his pen, and continued his writing.

“His name’s Ethan, and he’s a whore.” He paused in his work, making eye contact with his brother. “Happy?” His eyes dropped.

“Well that still doesn’t explain why you’re keeping him here,” Mark retorted. “So no, not really.”

“Come now, you’re a big boy,” Darren smirked. “Surely you know the answer to that?” Mark grimaced.

“I understand why he’s here, but not _why_ he’s here.” He said, sighing at the ridiculousness of his own statement. Darren chuckled, seemingly finding his brother’s turmoil quite entertaining. “What I _mean_ is, if he’s just ‘a whore’, then why the _fuck_ is he living here? I mean, surely you could just… you know, go out and…” He trailed off, mortified to even be _having_ this conversation, let alone _with his brother_ ; Darren, however, _still_ seemed to find their situation amusing.

“Let’s just say,” Came his smooth reply. “I make it a priority to… _take care_ of my things.” The finality in his voice made it clear to Mark that this conversation was over. His eyebrows drew together in more than mild frustration.

“I’m going out,” He said. “I should be back in a few hours.” The pen scratching did not cease.

“Where are you going?”

“Well, considering you have literally no food in the house,” Mark began making his way from the office. “I figured I’d do some grocery shopping.”

“Woah there, rich boy,” Darren smirked at him. “You sure you can _handle_ that?” Mark felt his annoyance peak.

“Oh, _fuck off._ ” He said; leaving the office without another word.


	4. Come a little closer, then you'll see. Things aren't always what they seem to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I have a lot of explaining to do.  
> this chapter is coming out so much later than anticipated, but I have reasons! Firstly, my laptop up and fucking died, right in the middle of writing this part, and believe me when I say that we did everything we could to try and fix it, but it was just done with it! so, my laptop had to get replaced, which took a while.  
> secondly, I've actually been looking into writing some new works very soon, so I was giving development of those ideas way too much attention, leading to me just not writing anything.  
> thirdly, some people may have seen that I deleted chapter four last time I posted it. I did this for one specific reason: as I was reading it over once it had been posted, I came to the startling realisation that I fucking HATED it, so I took it down and rewrote basically the entire thing, which is what we have here today! so if you read the previous upload, then this is completely different and you should totally read this as well!  
> anyway! I'll shut up, enjoy!
> 
> Title lyric: Come A Little Closer by Cage The Elephant

The brief excursion to the local shops had ultimately been dull and uneventful, but Mark would admit, it did him some good. The air was cold and sharp, but it did well to sooth the storm in his mind, and the calming numbness of meaningless exchanges between himself and folk of the town managed to take his mind off the night before.

However, even with the somewhat slow pace of the outing, he still found himself back at the front door of Darren’s home much sooner than he had hoped. He sighed, attempting to balance the two large paper bags he was carrying on one arm; fumbling for a moment, he pushed forwards into the uninviting entrance hall. The hall opened to the front room; he ignored the change in location and simply continued down the opposing corridor to the kitchen. To his surprise, the kitchen was not empty; he walked in to find Darren leaning against the countertop, coffee in hand.

“Didn’t think your kind could survive outside the office.” He teased, setting the bags down on countertop, next to his brother.

“Mark, in the politest way possible,” Darren sounded exasperated. “Go fuck yourself.”

“Someone’s cranky today,” Mark joked, though there was a slight edge to it. Sensing Darren’s lack of desire for conversation, he set to work stacking the shelves and cupboards. A few moments of silence passed before Mark once again tried to break the tension “I just thought I’d help you out a bit. You don’t seem to be doing too great.”

“I’m fine.”

“Yeah, because everyone keeps a whore in their upstairs bedroom when their fine.” Darren’s eyebrows drew together, irritated to be having this conversation again.

“I’m really not in the mood to be interrogated about that again.” He said, frustrated.

“Well can you _blame_ me?” Mark spun back around to meet his twin’s eyes. “This is _huge_ , how could you have just _never_ told me?” A sickening crack resounded as Darren slammed his mug down on the wooden countertop.

“ _And just why would I have done that_?” His hand visibly trembled in anger; Mark squeezed his eyes shut. “ _Mother, father and all the rest of them already fucking hated me. Why the fuck would I go and give them more reason to_?”

“I wasn’t talking about _them_ , Darren,” Came Mark’s rather calm interjection. His hands clenched into fists at his sides; he forced his gaze back up towards Darren’s. “I was talking about _me_. Why did you never tell _me_?”

“You would’ve told _her_. I _know_ you would have.”

“So what if I did? She was _worried_ about you, Darren. We all were.”

“Well, isn’t that _sweet_ ,” He sneered, letting his callous remark fester in the air. “You all thought there was something _wrong_ with me, and I guess there is. So there, are you _satisfied_?” Mark’s gaze dropped.

“No, not entirely.” Darren exhaled an exasperated sigh; he picked up his now empty mug and crossed the room to the old looking sink in the far corner. He placed the object inside the porcelain basin, and made it to the kitchen doorway before Mark once again interjected. “What about Ethan?”

“What _about_ Ethan?”

“Well, who is he?”

“I’ve already told you. He’s just a whore.” Mark sighed, exasperated.

“I’m not stupid, Darren. If he was ‘just a whore’ he wouldn’t be here,” He edged his way closer to his brother in the doorway, attempting to emphasise that he was not going to drop this. “So, tell me; _who is he_?” Darren breathed a frustrated sigh, moving back into the kitchen; locking eyes with his twin, he leaned back against the wall by the doorframe.

“Ethan and I…” He paused; his gaze dropped, almost in shame. “We’ve been… _seeing_ each other for about a year-”

“ _A year_?” Mark stared, jaw slack. “Darren how could you _not_ tell me?”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe because you’d act like _this_?” Darren said, gesturing to where his brother stood.

“What?” Mark challenged. “Because I’d be _concerned_ for you? Because I’d want to _help_ you?”

“That’s precisely what I _mean_ , Mark,” The tremble had returned; there was a raw and unbridled _rage_ boiling inside of Darren’s mind, and he was barely keeping a lid on it. “ _I don’t need help._ ”

“ _Yes, you do_.” Mark countered, his eyes filling up with a quiet desperation. “ _Please_ , just let me help you.” Darren raised his eyes back up to his brother’s stare, responding to his desperation with cold indifference.

“I think we’re done here.” Darren pushed his back off the wall behind him, turning to the open doorway. Mark broke the silence.

“Darren-”

“ _I said we’re done_.”

 

He found himself face to face with the guest room door; the sky had grown dark, and Darren had finally hauled himself to bed. Mark stood for a moment, fidgeting with the key. Really there was no reason for him to be this nervous, but he could not seem to shake the feeling. Mark sighed, finally pushing the key into the lock and turning it. He pushed the door open and his senses were instantaneously hit with the heavy smell of tobacco in the air.

Pushing the door further revealed the boy’s- no, _Ethan’s_ figure reclined against the pillows; a cigarette in his right hand, and smoke softly trailing from his lips. His head was craned skyward, but he seemed to notice Mark’s presence.

“Didn’t think I’d see you again,” He drawled, taking the cigarette from between his lips and holding it between two slim fingers; he gestured to the end of the bed. “Take a seat.” With some reluctance, Mark complied with his request; at the feeling of the mattress shifting, Ethan tilted his head back down. The movement causing the loose neckline of his oversized shirt to fall from one shoulder, revealing his upper chest and collar bone; the skin still sporting tender bruises. Mark drew his eyes away.

“I, uh…” He began, catching Ethan’s attention. “I was wondering if you could tell me some things.” Ethan smirked at Mark’s obvious discomfort.

“Oh? A man on a mission, are we? I like that,” He said, tilting his head. He placed the cigarette back between his lips, taking a long slow drag, the smoke leaking from his parted lips and curling around his facial features. “What is it you wanna know?”

“Well, for a start,” Mark brought his focus back to the boy in front of him. “Who are you?” Pondering the question, Ethan took the cigarette from his lips and stubbed it out in the large glass ashtray sitting atop his bedside table.

“Me? Don’t worry about me,” He said. “I’m nobody.”

“Bullshit,” Mark countered. “If _my brother_ has taken an interest in you, you are _not_ nobody. He wouldn’t keep you here if you were nobody.”

“Well,” The younger released a low laugh at the morbidity of his situation. “I’m nobody to _him_ , at least.” The statement was unsatisfying, to say the least, and Mark felt a new layer of frustration descend upon him.

“I find that hard to believe.”

“Well, _believe_ it.”

“ _But that makes no sense._ ” The sudden outburst seemed to startle them both; Mark hung his head, taking in deep breathes, attempting to calm himself. He brought his hands up to his face, rubbing at his tired eyes. “Forgive me. This is just... a lot to take in.” A silent stillness consumed them for a moment, only to be broken by the mattress shifting. Mark felt a hand descend onto his shoulder, looking up, his eyes met with Ethan’s; but there was something different about them. Something warm and caring. Something _genuine_ stirred within his light irises.

“It’s okay,” He spoke; his hand trailing soothing patterns into Mark’s shoulder. “I understand that this is a lot to deal with. Just let it all out.” Ethan spoke with the gentle tongue of a caring friend, and it sparked something within the other; something that told him he could let his guard down. The boy brought his other arm up to wrap around the back of Mark’s head, bringing it to lay on his chest; his fingers tangling into silky black waves. For a moment, they stayed like that; Mark’s eyes slipped shut, time seemed to stand still. A feeling of overwhelming comfort and safety bloomed from within his chest; the sensation of Ethan’s skin brushing his own _burned_ in such a way that, when he let go, Mark could swear he felt frost.

“I, uh… haven’t been held like that since I was a child,” He confessed, letting his gaze fall from the grip of Ethan’s hypnotising eyes. A slight heat rose to his face. “It was… _nice_. Thank you.” The boy seemed to recoil at the kind words. Hauling himself back up to the head of the bed, reaching for the opened pack of cigarettes and placing a new one between his lips.

“Well, I suppose that’s why I’m here,” He said, striking a match and bringing it up to the end of the waiting cigarette. He inhaled the smoke slow and deep, allowing it to leak from his mouth. “But now that that’s out of the way, what else can I do for you?”

“I just want to know some things,” Mark began. “About you. And about Darren.”

“And, if you don’t mind my asking,” Ethan interjected, another soft grey cloud dripping from his parted lips. “Why do I have to tell you?” He asked, placing the cigarette back between his lips.

“Excuse me?”

“Well, you said these questions are about Darren,” Another laboured exhale of grey tinted smoke. “Surely, you should ask _him_?” Mark winced as he pondered the idea.

“Darren and I’s relationship is… _complicated_ ,” He glanced over to the boy sitting at the head of the bed, in the hopes of acquiring some kind of sympathy, only to be met with indifference. He pressed on. “I _tried_ , but he just doesn’t want to talk to me. That’s why I’m here.” Ethan smirked at Mark’s desperation.

“Fine. Ask away.”

“Darren told me that you had been seeing each other for about year.” The younger took another drag from his cigarette, the smoke soon mingling with the air around his face.

“That’s right.”

“Well, what’s the…” He hesitated a moment; pondering the correct phrasing. “What’s the _nature_ of your relationship?” Ethan had to laugh at the profound lack of confidence with which Mark posed the question.

“We fuck, if that’s what you mean.” Ethan replied, smirk still displayed on his lips; Mark tore his eyes away as his complexion flushed.

“That’s, uh, not _exactly_ what I meant. I meant…” He cleared his throat awkwardly before turning back to Ethan, who seemed to be taking great pleasure in his discomfort. “Are the two of you _together_ together?” The younger sat quiet a moment; once again taking the end of the cigarette between his lips.

“I’m still not sure what you’re getting at.”

“ _Do you love him_?” Mark blurted, almost surprising himself. Callous laughter erupted from beside him; he recoiled at the harsh response. “W-what?”

“Fuck, _no_ ,” He managed between laboured breathes. “What gave you _that_ idea?”

“Well, most people don’t just fuck when there’s nothing there…” He spat, face flushed in mortification; Ethan smirked, shifting closer to him.

“Look at you, blushing like a virgin.” He teased, reaching out and placing his fingertips under the other’s chin. Ethan closed the space between them; his warm breath ghosting over Mark’s lips. As much as Mark would like to deny it, he leaned into that touch; but as quickly as the warmth of Ethan’s skin grazed his, it was gone. “Darren and I aren’t ‘most people’.”

“I suppose you have a point there,” Mark admitted. His eyes trailed the boy’s every move as he repositioned himself against the headboard; Ethan truly was a _fascinating_ creature. He watched as Ethan took another drag from the slowly diminishing cigarette. The soft smoke aged him far beyond his years, yet there was something… alluring about the whole image; if the attraction Darren had to this boy was purely physical, Mark _completely_ understood.

“Why do you do that?” The sound of the other’s soft voice broke Mark from his trance.

“Huh?”

“You’re staring at me, and you have been this entire time. Why?” _Was I staring?_ Mark brought his hands up to rub his strained eyes.

“Guess I’m tired. Probably just getting a bit delirious.” The mattress beside him shifted, and the slight squeak of bedsprings was accompanied by a small hand being placed between his shoulder blades, gently running down his back. He let his gaze travel up to the body next to him; that scorching feeling of Ethan’s skin burned as fiercely as it always did, but there was a soft fondness in his eyes.

“Yeah, I suppose it is getting late,” Mark tore his gaze from the other’s form, and heaved himself off his corner of the mattress, pulling himself from the warm embrace of human contact. He made no further move to leave.

“Um, Ethan…” The younger perked up at the sound of his name.

“Yeah?”

“W-would it be alright if I… paid you another visit tomorrow night?” He felt that elusive nervousness stir within him; he pulled his gaze back to where Ethan was sitting. To his confusion, the younger’s defences seemed to be riled up again.

“Why?” He demanded, raising his arms to cross his body as his knees drew near to his chest; it was obvious what he presumed to be Mark’s intentions. Attempting to remedy the younger’s discomfort, he dropped back onto the bed, and shifted towards Ethan’s hunched figure; though this only seemed to distress him further.

“I do not wish to… _violate_ you,” Ethan visibly relaxed at those words. “I would simply like to speak with you more… if that’s alright with you.” The younger cast his eyes away from Mark’s, his shoulders becoming tense.

“I fail to see why you would want to.” Mark remained silent, studying the boy’s downcast features.

“Well, there’s still so much I don’t know about this whole situation. And, in all honesty, I find you… utterly fascinating,” The confession pulled Ethan’s gaze back up, a stray hair catching between his eyes. Mark felt a slight smile tug at the corners of lips, bringing his hand up to push back the strand of hair, the pads of his fingertips brushing against the skin of Ethan’s forehead. “Oh, uh… sorry. Habit, I guess…” The younger’s expression softened.

“You should probably go.” Ethan’s words came out as a gentle push, which brought Mark to the doorway. He cast one last glance to the boy on the bed, before heading out. The door emitted a low groan as it opened and shut. Mark let his back fall against the cool wood of the door, his heart pounding in his chest.

_Habit? Yeah, sure it was._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are appreciated, as well as any questions or constructive criticism ^.^


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